Death Tales
by Andovia212
Summary: Not much depth is ever given to the ghosts in Danny Phantom's world. Here's some depth for some of our favorite ghosts. Formerly Ember's Tale. Backstories for random ghosts. Tell me if I should bump up the rating. I don't own Danny Phantom!
1. Ember

Ember McLain was unnoticeable. Simple as that. She had flat red hair that she always put in a high ponytail and brown eyes that resembled nothing. Well, she was unnoticed everywhere except at home where her alcoholic father was always paying attention to her with abuse. Nobody knew the spirit and bitterness of the girl inside. She tried to stand out at school by wearing cut-up and loud clothing, but it didn't help. People never remembered her name, not even her teachers. She despised not being noticed. The only attention she ever got was horrible.

She also had talent that she wished was known. The girl could sing and play guitar very well since they were her only way of expressing her feelings. She played and sang every night after her father had passed out. It also distracted her from other pains. She had many physical ones from her dad beating her but emotional ones besides being invisible. Her mother had died in a car crash when she was young and half-raised by her busy grandmother. A few months back her grandmother died of a heart attack from stress. It happened on Ember's 16th birthday.

Not a week later, Ember discovered a fascination that she had but never realized. She was fascinated by fire. She was always very careful, but every night before she went to bed she would light a match and watch it burn. Several times she let it burn far enough down that it scalded her fingertips, but she didn't care. She wished she had something that would burn for longer, but there was barely enough money for food and school since her father didn't work.

One person did notice her two weeks ago but still not the way she wanted. A boy from school. He had used her to make his ex-girlfriend jealous.

Lately, Ember's been actually practicing music for something though. The school was hosting a talent show that she was first on the list for. She would finally be noticed since attendance was mandatory for the student body. Plus there was a prize of a brand new guitar to the winner, randomly donated by a billionaire in Wisconsin. Ember never expected the incident that would occur and keep her from that guitar but get another that she preferred so much more.

Ember checks her hair in the mirror inside her locker then shuts it and goes to her last class of the day. She just had to get through English today then two classes tomorrow and she'd be rocking out in the talent show. The class flew by quicker than she had expected, but she spent it thinking about her outfit. It had to be her best except... She didn't really have a best. She was always extremely careful with her clothes since she couldn't get new ones easily, but they all had at least one rip or a seam that was coming undone. They all showed some of her bruises; that couldn't be helped. She hoped that she would be far enough up on the stage that they wouldn't notice them when they finally noticed her. She did have a flare-up of hate for adults towards the end of class when the teacher called on her by "McLame" instead of McLain. Several people chuckled at it, but she didn't care about them. They could laugh all they wanted because tomorrow they would be cheering for her.

She hurried home when the final bell rang and rushed straight up the stairs and locked her door. Her dad was still out drinking she was home so early. She picked up her worn guitar and made sure it was fine. She always worried about it when she left in the mornings. She never knew what her dad would do. She wouldn't have to worry about it tomorrow though. As she began playing and singing the song she wrote, all her worries melted away. So did the time. She practiced it over and over again but never once started causing strain to her voice. She only came out of her little world of music to someone banging on her bedroom door.

"Hey, you little good-for-nothing! Where's my dinner?!" he father slurred outside it. She cringed at his slur. He was really drunk this time. She knew that if she opened that door that she would probably be hit so many times that she wouldn't be able to perform tomorrow. Because of that, she backed into the corner of her room and curled up into a ball on the floor with her guitar. Her father pounded away at the door and called her every name he could think of for half an hour before he finally went down the stairs, creaking all the way. Ember hated the house. When she was little, he mother still alive and her father a good man, she loved it because it was so happy. Her mother filled it with life and bright decorations. Since then, Ember's father had thrown far too many drunken rages for a spec of happiness to remain in the house.

Ember stayed in her ball on the floor and listened to her father stumbling through the kitchen below her. She loathed him. She lost herself in daydreams of getting out of this place. She woke up when it was dark but something was off. She registered that she had fallen asleep, but she didn't understand why her father was laughing like an absolute maniac downstairs. She finally understood when her brain noticed the thick smell of smoke and the heat coming from her door across the room. The house was on fire, and her way out was blocked. She jumped up and to her window. He jaw dropped in shock and horror. The lawn in front of her window was ablaze, too; the flames of it so high up the wall that some larger flares reached her window. It was crawling closer up the side, too. Her father had trapped her between flames. She stared at the flames and began to feel freakishly calm as she watched them. She was finally seeing a bigger fire.

"Why ain't you screaming, you-" she heard of her father's yell at her. He wanted her to scream and feel pain. Ember refused to scream and satisfy him. She stayed completely silent. She knew she would probably die soon since the fire truck response was so poor in this town. She went to her bedside table and pulled out a piece of paper and a pen.

"Everyone," she wrote, "I know I'm not going to make it. Not like anybody cares. My father is abusive and needs to be put in jail. Please don't let him get away with hurting me. He also set the fires. Do me a favor and tell everybody at the high school about me. Make them feel guilty about not remembering who I am. I hope I'll be with Mama now. Ember McLain" She picks up the whiskey bottle that she had cleaned out a long time ago. She always put her father's monthly disability check inside it so he couldn't waste it on alcohol. Now, she rolled up the letter and shoved it inside. She hurried to her window and coaxed it open. The heat of the flames hit her hard and the smoke billowed in. She hurled the bottle into the yard then slammed the window shut again, though it didn't help since she was coughing heavily. She knew then that she had to make a choice. If this took much longer, she'd die of smoke inhalation.

She went back to her night stand and pulled out her box of matches. She wanted to die of fire. She liked the fire and knew that her father would be blamed for her death. She started in the far corner of her room and made a continuous line of matches up to her door. Her father had only set the stairs on fire so it was just reaching her door. She placed one match halfway under the door then stepped back. She went to the corner they ended in and picked up her guitar. She covered her mouth in hopes that she wouldn't continue to breath in too much smoke. Then the fire started on the first match. It burned it quickly and continued to the next match, setting the floor ablaze slowly, too. Ember watched as it burned the matches all the way up to her. The heat was severe, but she simply focused on some thing else. Singing. A song had come to her mind and she wished she had thought of it before.

Just as she finished by choosing the name to be "Remember", she caught fire, and her world dissolved into burning then into nothing.

When she woke up, she thought someone had somehow saved her then she saw where she was. She was laying on ground that was covered in ashes. She sat up and looked at herself. She was wearing black clothes that were cut just right around her and bright blue bangs fell down into her eyes. She also had on grey, steel-toed boots that looked like skulls. What's most is that she loved them. She looked noticeable now! She also knew that she was dead. She could feel it, and she was way too pale. She looked around her. This is where her house had been. All that was left was ashes except a guitar right next to her. It was brilliant purple with blue flames that matched the color of her hair. She suddenly recalled the song she had thought of just before she died and smiled. She knew what to do to get noticed now.

She started simply walking down the street then with her new guitar in hand. She caught a glimpse of herself in a puddle of water on the ground leftover from the water used to put out the flames. Her hair was cut off at the base of her ponytail.

"Ember?" a startled voice asked from a little ways away. The effect was shocking, but very interesting. As soon as he said her name, bright blue flames burned from the end of her hair and calmed to form a short ponytail as power coursed through her. Interesting. People saying her name gave her power. She glimpsed at the person who had said her name. It was him. The same boy that had used her. He had flowers in his hand. She looked back at the house and saw that there was no shrine for her. She hadn't expected there to be.

"You look like you've seen a ghost. Well guess what? You have," she tells him. She laughs at his faces as she turns invisible.


	2. Sidney Poindexter

_AN: Hello my lovelies!~ ... Please don't be mad at me for making this instead of working on Second Chance. I re-watched the episode and got inspiration. . Hope you enjoy!~_

**_POSSIBLY SENSITIVE CONTENT_**

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><p>"Omph!" Sidney Poindexter let out as his face was rammed into the locker wall once again, the rest of his body with it. The following darkness told him the door had been shut on him. Again. He mentally cursed his small size. Again. And his glasses. And his face. And his nerdiness. And generally everything about himself. Again. He sighed as he tried to move around enough to get the wire coat hanger he kept for these frequent occasions. The high school Senior was less than two hours away from leaving this hell hole for good minus graduation, but two hours was still plenty of time for his peers to abuse him more.<p>

He finally got where he could pick the lock from the inside, managing to lower himself out of it rather than falling out. He'd been shut in it enough to know how for sure. He pulled his notebooks out after himself then shut the door, heading off to his last final of the day rather quickly so as not to be late. Even the teachers didn't give him a break in this school, but he wouldn't have to see any of them ever again. He was graduating that night and then leaving for California the next day, hsi parents all-too-glad to be paying for a schooling that would get him out of their hair. He honestly didn't mind the lack of love his parents gave him with how much they instead gave to his twin brother, Bobby.

Sidney tolerated his favoring parents. Bobby, on the other hand, Sidney flat-out loathed. Anyone who would try to argue to him that he shouldn't hate his brother should walk a mile in his worn-out shoes. Bobby got everything from their parents and was Sidney's worst bully of all, the pair of fraternal twins being more opposite than brightest day and darkest night. The only thing the same was the color of their hair, and even then the textures were different.

Sidney shoved aside the black thoughts of his family as he reached the classroom, managing to make it to his seat without incident despite five legs being put out to try tripping him. He sat and pulled out his pencil, ready to ace this test and be free.

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><p>Sidney rushed out of the classroom before anyone else when the final bell rang and made it to his locker, pulling out everything except the clothes hanger and his mirror and shoving it into his backpack. The crowds of students started to fill the hall around him, everyone being very loud and excited for summer break andor graduation. He shut his locker quickly and sped through the halls the best he could, trying to make it out before anyone could bully him again. He failed slightly as he was tripped seven times while he ran, but he didn't pause at any of them, getting right back up and running again. He finally made it to the exit and halfway jumped out the doors, hurrying along the sidewalk and towards the outside of town, aiming for his hideout.

He made it there with no problems and dropped his backpack to the floor of the old tree house, sitting down in the corner and picking up the his latest read. He settled in and got lost, imagining himself as the protagonist just as he always had in every book and comic he'd ever read. It made him feel like he was actually worth something when everyone around was telling him otherwise.

He stayed in his childhood tree house (the family of four had moved to another house in town when Sidney was twelve but nobody has bought their old one even to this day) for hours, reading until his eyes ached and he had finished one book and began another. He closed it and set it gingerly on top of his stack, standing and stretching before fixing his glasses. He glanced out the open window at the town clock tower and jumped.

"Holy Socks! I'm going to be late!" he exclaimed before grabbing his backpack and hurrying to the ground, running all the way across town to his house and quickly throwing on his graduation gown overtop of his current clothing, picking up his cap, and taking off again. He managed to make it back to the school just as the students began walking in. He tugged on his cap and jumped into line behind his twin, ignoring whatever snarky comment the bigger brother made to him.

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><p>The ceremony dragged on, Sidney keeping up a bitter commentary in his head as each person walked across the stage, all of them having bullied him more than once per school year. Finally it was his turn to go across and recieve his ticket of freedom. He barely even noticed as the assistant principal mispronounced his last name despite having said it perfectly for his brother. He was halfway in a daze as he returned to his seat and throughout the rest of the ceremony. The daze continued as they were released and he headed back towards his locker to pick up his mirror since he hadn't wanted it to get broken earlier. It ws an antique and the one gift he'd ever gotten and liked, after all.<p>

The hallway was fairly dark around him with only one light on at the end of it, but he didn't mind much as he opened locker 724 for his last time. He picked up the hanger and turned on his heel, heading across the hall for the trashcan, the piece of metal reminding him of too many miserable times for him to deem it worthy of keeping. He tossed it happily then went back across to his locker to get the mirror.

He was completely unsuspecting of anything amiss until there was an arm reaching around him and slamming into his gut. The punch threw him backwards onto the ground and made his glasses go flying. He looked up at his attacker and could easily make out Bobby despite the blurriness. He was hoisted from the floor under his arms by his brother's two biggest "goons".

"Hey, Poin-dork. How about one last beating for old times' sake, huh?" Bobby grinned as he said this and Sidney struggled a bit against the guys holding him off the ground. He'd had enough. He was not going to take this as easily as he normally has; he had just graduated high school, and he was absolutely finished with all of it. Sidney was neither flexible nor strong, but anger was fueling him now. Bobby pulled back his fist to clock Sidney again but was stopped as Sidney's foot connected with his face.

Bobby stood shocked for a moment before scowling so deeply that the half-blind Sidney could still get just how angry he had made his brother. It was in that moment Sidney remembered something he'd shoved back in his had years ago; his brother was bipolar and while that did not immediately mean anything bad, every doctor he'd seen had labeled him as dangerous when angered. Sidney could feel the tension rolling off the two large boys holding him, both of them nervous at this display despite being on the other side of Bobby's fist as Sidney.

"Drop him," Bobby ordered them, to which the two immediately complied and stepped away quickly. Sidney hit the floor hard on his feet, pain shooting up his ankles and lingering in the several spots where his legs had been broken before. A slap on the face sent him to the ground, and he finally found his glasses and quickly slid them on. "Look here, Sidney. You've been nothing but a pain since we were born. When you leave tomorrow, Do. Not. Come. Back. Got it?"

Sidney narrowed his eyes at his twin and remained silent, getting back on his feet. "I can come back home if I want to! I-" he began, but never got to add that he didn't want to come home ever again before he was soaring through the air and slamming head-first into the lockers. Though he'd done this many times in his high school years, this time was different. He was too low and too far over to simply hit the back of his locker. His head hits the knob of the locker next to his open one and he immediately blacks out.

He comes to again in complete darkness and in severe pain, his head swimming still. He has sense enough to feel around a bit and knows he's once again in his locker. He mentally begins cursing and digs around for the hanger, too unaware to remember he'd thrown it out. He's not too unaware to the fact that his neck is hot and wet, though. He fuzzily reaches his hand to feel his neck, following the feeling up to the top of his head where hot wetness is gushing out alarmingly.

Sidney pulled his hand back around to his bent-up lap, wanting nothing more than to sleep. A tiny voice protests in his head, realizing the danger and making him aware that he's dying, but the fact is oddly comforting to Sidney. He let his head droop over, eyes shutting as he is filled with a false sense of relief from the coldness of his mirror against the wound. He's too out of it to notice the green glowing of the mirror that partially lights up the locker and is soon falling, fading, dying.

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><p><em>Best part about all of these is you guys always know there's death at the end. XD Anywho, if you didn't pick up on it, the mirror was special. When he bled on it then died, it then trapped his spirit. Let me know if you think I should up the rating and if you see any errors. Thanks for reading and have a good day! F, F, &amp; R!~ :D <em>


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